"Go away!"
"You traitor!"
"Never return here!"
"Get lost!"
A string of curses flowed into his ears as items of various types slammed onto his back, injuring him. If he riled up his mana, defending against these utensils would have been child's play.
But Gilthru didn't do that, as a sort of atonement as he stood at the same spot as before, carrying his mother's corpse as his expression was blank.
The women that were attacking him were weak, so weak they neither had the strength nor the aim to target him properly. But when a utensil approached him, a wind altered its course, causing it to slam into his back with greater force.
And any flying his mother's way was redirected onto his back. Moreover, a layer of metallic sheen formed on it as the Metal Mana turned the utensils more dangerous, causing them to slam into his back harder.
